


No One Is Innocent In War

by lyall



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellarke, F/M, Forgiveness, fluff sort of, post 2x10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 02:53:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3365018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyall/pseuds/lyall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She struggles everyday with the decision she made, leaving the people of TonDC to burn. She doubts she will ever be free of the guilt. But perhaps Bellamy can help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No One Is Innocent In War

Every second of everyday she wishes she had stayed behind in the village and died with the others. The guilt of it consumes her in a way she had never thought possible. And when Octavia hears of what she did, and tells her she is not fit to be their leader, it burns. 

The words seep into her skin, scarring her, reminding her. You know what they say; the truth hurts, wear it. Lincoln looks at her the way she once looked at Finn, and for a moment, just a moment, she understands.

Her mother grieves too much to say anything, but her eyes say more than enough. The accusation bites into her like a thousand knives as her mother sits by Kane’s bedside, waiting for him to wake. An apology bubbles to Clarke’s lips, but it never quite makes it out. It seems pointless to say what have mother already knows. 

The secret of what her and Lexa did tears them apart. Lexa still thinks Clarke as weak, and Clarke no longer cares. Strong or weak, people end up dead and she just can’t do it anymore. She hates Lexa for what she made her do, and she hates herself more for understanding why they had to do it. She wonders for a second if pre-Finns death Clarke would have done the same. She doubts it.

She often thinks Octavia is right. She is not fit to lead them.

Raven is the only person on Clarke’s side, which surprises her because right now, even Clarke isn’t on Clarke’s side. But her friend stands steady by her side, reminding her that she once tried to kill Murphy in Finn’s place. This girl beside her once placed live electric onto the skin of the man Octavia loves and planted a bomb on a bridge.

No one is innocent in war.

But it does nothing to ease her guilt. 

Sometimes, at night, when it is at its darkest, she imagines the red-hot flames engulfing her, taking her into their embrace. Her screams mingle with the dead, dying out one by one until it is just her, alone in her tent. Screaming alone. No one comes to see if she is okay. No one cares.

When Bellamy breaks the remaining 100 out of Mount Weather, there are celebrations. They are grateful to be alive. They thank her, and hug her. Little do that know what it cost her. 

She shies away from the festivities, avoiding the dark haired boy for whom she did all this. The monster she became because of her love for him is not one she ever wants him to see. He tries to talk to her, but a few short words from Octavia see an end to that. She wonders if he hates her now. She doesn’t blame him if he does.

The remaining hundred stop trying to talk to her, and they no longer care when she ventures into the forest alone. It is too loud at camp, and full of too many ghosts. The voices overwhelm her, making it feel like she can’t breath. How much longer can she take this?

Bellamy glances at her from across the camp, but does not make a move to talk to her. She can see his conflict from where she stands, knowing that he cannot forgive her for what she has done. Raven tells her that he will come around, they all will. But Clarke knows this isn’t true. 

It is a few weeks after the Mount Weather captives have returned, and Clarke is once again alone in the forest, no longer caring for the dangers it holds, wondering if anyone but Raven would weep for her death. Her mother might, out of guilt, but nothing more. Clarke wants to free of this burden. But she continues to live knowing that to die would be disrespectful to those she killed. If she did not carry the memory of them, who would?

The footsteps that break her from her thoughts are so familiar, yet so foreign. She had once become accustom to them stepping in line with her, and she depended on their steadiness to help her through. They had once told her that who they were and who they had to be to survive were two very different things. That never felt more wrong than in this moment.

“Clarke.” The voice is hoarse but soft. She braces herself for the spiteful words from the mouth she loved. When she doesn’t turn, Bellamy comes behind her and turns her to face him. 

His eyes burn in a way she has never seen before, and it hurts that is it direct at her. But she doesn’t look away. She deserves all the pain he gives her. It will never be enough to match the pain of those who died, but it’s a start. 

When she opens her mouth to say sorry, the word doesn’t form. What good will it do? In her hesitation, Bellamy reaches out, and for a moment she thinks he is to embrace her, but instead he places his palms on her shoulders and shoves her back. 

Not expecting it she stumbles and trips, landing heavily on her tailbone. She stands again, bracing herself this time, and only falling back a few steps when his hands make contact with her shoulders. There are tears in her eyes as she see’s the anger in his and knows he is right to feel the way he does. 

How could she leave his sister behind? He screams at her, neck muscles jumping as the blood courses through his body. What was she thinking? Octavia is his fucking sister. The Clarke he left behind would never have done that. She would have got those people out of there as soon as she knew what was happening. She would have saved them. 

She’s crying now, openly and freely, and it feels good. She needs him to hate her and tell her how wrong she was. This man, who has saved her life so many times now, hates her. 

He asks if she hates herself for it? His voice his low and hard, coming out in almost a growl. She nods, unable to speak for fear of what she might say in defence of herself.

Good, he says. Stepping back, the fire in his eyes dimming slightly. The sun hits him through the trees in an ethereal way making her feel unworthy. He is their leader now; she has lost the privilege. She gives him the crown gratefully, wishing to rid herself of the weight of it.

She asks if he hates her for it, and he doesn’t reply. He stops and looks at her, a lost look on his face seeming to make him look much younger than his years. Finally, he shakes his head. And suddenly she realises what he must be thinking of. Their early days on the ground, when Bellamy crossed so many lines that should never have been crossed. He doesn’t hate her because he understands.

And before she can stop herself, she tells him it was for him. She doesn’t mean to, the words slip out before she can stop them, and she wishes she could take them back, because no matter the reason, she made the wrong decision.

She closes her eyes, not able to bare him looking at her like he doesn’t know her. The things she has done, have defined her. When he says nothing, and the air around her tells her he hasn’t moved, she opens her eyes again. He is looking at her with a tenderness she never expected.

She has surprised him into silence and she is transported back to a time when their roles were reversed. Dax, a fellow delinquent, lay dead on the floor and Bellamy, her Bellamy, asks for forgiveness for the things he has done. And she gives it to him. What is there to forgive? She needed him then, she knew she couldn’t do it alone. And she needs him now.

They are silent and the small space between them is charged. He is still angry at her, and he will be for a long time to come. It will be even longer before she trusts herself to make another decision as a leader, but he will be there when that time comes, balancing her out. The Ying to her Yang. 

Their lives are too intertwined that this point. What is one without the other? She has lost parts of herself on this earth, and Bellamy shares those scars. Without him, she fell apart and let terrible things happen.

He raises a hand to her cheek and rests it there and she leans into it slightly knowing that he truly has forgiven her. Leaning forwards slightly, he presses his lips to her forehead.


End file.
